Why So Serious?
by This.Is.SCRUMPTIOUS
Summary: During/before TDK. During his first visit to Arkham, the Joker finds another toy to play with that might be even more fun than the black bat, and this chick is willing to be played with. Harley Quinn/Joker Rated T to be safe.
1. Goodbye Doctor, Hello Psychopath

"Dr

"Dr. Quinzel?"

"Hmmm...DOCTOR." I said with interest. "I like it!" This was the first time anyone had called me doctor. Usually it was miss, or Harleen, or something like that.

"Doctor?" Dr. Reynolds said again, snapping me out of my thought.

"Ahm?"

"We would like your assistance with a new patient we got." he began. I gave him an inquiring look.

"You need MY help?" I asked, bemused. I twirled around in my office chair excitedly. "I thought that I was only an intern."

"Well, we're moving you up," he said sternly, clearly wanting to get to the point. "As I was saying, we need your help with a certain...difficult patient."

"What's his name?" I questioned, getting serious and pulling out a pad of paper and my favorite pen.

"He..." the doctor was thoughtful for a moment. "He doesn't really HAVE a name."

"An alias?" I shot out, rotating my pen in-between my fingers. "A nickname? Pet name? Come on, throw me a bone here!"

"No, but he DOES leave a calling card," he told me nervously, fumbling around in his pocket. He eventually pulled out an actual card. He was shaking now, as he handed it to me. I took it and examined it. It was a joker card.

"Joker?" I asked amusedly, throwing the card on my desk. "That's what they call him?"

"THE Joker, actually," he corrected, and swallowed. Geez, this guy really shook him up.

"What's so bad about clown-boy?"

"Clearly you don't watch the news," Dr. Reynolds chuckled, but not his usual happy chipper chuckle. It was more of a 'this is not really funny, but I'm trying to light up the mood' chuckle. "He's a mass-murdering psychopath. They've captured him, and sent him to us. They thought that Arkham Asylum would be able to 'cure' him. I highly doubt it..."

"Do we have him in custody NOW?" I asked, rising out of my chair. He nodded his head.

"I can take you to see him now," he began, opening up the door behind him. "But you can't talk to him yet. We need to get you authorized."

"Sounds like a plan!" I hollered, giving him a thumbs up and a smile. "Just one question. Why do you need ME? I really don't have much experience."

"Because no one else will take the job."

"Ah." I said, as in, 'of course!'

The two of us DOCTORS (oh I HAD to just say that!) walked down the halls of the asylum to one of the many padded rooms that we had. Dr. Reynolds slid open the little door on the door that concealed a small window, and I peered into it. He was sitting in the far right hand corner, with a straight jacket wrapped tightly around him. He was staring straight at me, as if he had been doing this for hours on end. He looked bored. I took off my glasses and cleaned them. I put them back on. Yep, I wasn't imaging him. This man had white make-up all around his face. Around his eyes had been painted black, like a raccoon's. His mouth was painted up into a big, red smile. He had greasy, curled/waved hair that was slightly green. I can see why they call him The Joker.

"What has he done in the past?" I asked, intrigued by this strange man.

"He's robbed banks, planted numerous bombs both real and fake," Dr. Reynolds listed off. "And has murdered countless people. He seems to care for no one but himself."

"So he's dangerous?"

"Oh yeah."

"When will I get to meet him?" I asked, turning towards him and grinning.

"Tomorrow, at any time," he informed me, wiping the sweat off of his balding head.

"Perfect," I whispered so that only I could hear. This new patient was going to be an interesting start to my career.

All throughout college and high school, I was a gymnastics star. I loved doing flips and cartwheels and anything and everything. I won countless medals and trophies at competition. I even got an offer to be in the Olympics. But, for some strange reason, none of it ever made me happy. I've always wanted fame, but not like this. My college major ended up being psychology. The crazed and criminal mind just snatched my attention. I ended up getting an internship at Arkham Asylum, where I am now. I loved it there.

At my home in Gotham, I had a boyfriend named Jonathon. He also worked as a criminal psychologist, just in a different asylum than I. Well, he DID. That was until Batman killed his boss. He was handsome and mysterious; two qualities that I liked in a man. We saw each other as often as we could, and enjoyed each other's company.

As soon as I saw the sun go up, I jumped out of bed and began putting on my uniform for work. It was about seven o'clock, so the asylum was going to open in a half hour. Just enough time for me to get ready. I made myself a quick waffle, chugged a glass of orange juice, and grabbed my keys. Today, I was going to get the once in a lifetime chance to interview the most dangerous man in Gotham. Oh, and he also happened to be a clown. I was walking down the stairs from my apartment when my cell phone rang. It was Jonathon.

"Hello!" I greeted cheerfully.

"Hey," he said, a tad grumpy. "How can you be so bright in the morning?"

"Orange juice!"

"PLEASE don't yell," he groaned. I could almost imagine him rubbing his head. "I had a late one last night. That damn flying rat got in the way again."

"You better be careful!" I warned him. "One day he's gonna catch'ya!"

"He better not," he muttered. "Well, I've gotta go. Just wanted to say good morning to you."

"Good morning to you!" I said in a sing-song voice. He moaned again, and I heard the click that signaled he had hung up. I put my phone into my purse and skipped the rest of the way to the asylum.

"Good morning, Dr. Quinzel!" The guard at the door greeted. I smiled my greeting and showed him my pass that allowed me to enter the building. "Dr. Reynolds is waiting outside The Joker's room."

"Gotcha!" I said with a thumbs up. I walked the long halls until I spotted Dr. R waiting impatiently, jingling his keys. There were two guards next to him.

"You s-sure you're ready?" he asked nervously. I sighed.

"Yep!" I answered happily. "Jirk and Gub, open the door!"

"It's Girk and Jub," The one on Dr. R's right mumbled, but took the keys from the doctor anyways. He opened the door and he and his friend went inside.

"Come with me," the doctor instructed, and I followed him to a private, yet secure, room where The Joker and I would be talking. I wanted to look professional, so I waited until after he was in the room to enter. I had an empty brief case by my side and a cup of coffee in my free hand. MAN did I feel cool.

The Joker was sitting in a chair across from me, his hands in hand-cuffs. He was wearing purple pants, with a green vest that rested on top of a lavender dress shirt. He had a dark purple coat hanging behind him on his chair. He still had his make-up on, and I could see it was starting to fade away. I realized that his red smile was actually covering up a long line of scars he had on both sides of his mouth, forming a permanent grin on his face.

I put my brief case on the table and my Styrofoam cup next to it. I sat down in my chair and folded my hands.

"Hello," I said seriously. The man looked, once again, bored. "My name is Dr. Quinzel. I've heard many stories about you, Mr..."

"Friends call me Joker," he said, and then grinned. "Well, they would if I had any friends. EVERYONE calls me The Joker. You may, as well."

"Mr. Joker, then-"

"No." he cut me off severely. "Just Joker."

"Joker," I began, and he licked his lips. "What is your motivation?"

He just looked at me.

"For killing, I mean." I clarified.

"It's fun," he answered with shrug. "I get a kick out of it."

"I see," I said, furrowing my eyebrows. I was thoughtful for a few moments.

"You look troubled." he asked sincerely.

"Well, usually," I began, unclasping my hands and waving them in the air. "When we talk to a patient, they tell us their life long story about why they do, or did, what they did."

He leaned in across the table a little bit and whispered:

"I'm not your average patient."

"And I'M not your average doctor," I retorted, tilting my head down.

"Oh, I already knew that," he replied, lying back into his chair.

"Did you now?" I asked, cocking my eyebrows up. He licked his lips again. "Is that a habit for you?"

He stared at me again.

"I mean, when you-"

"I know what you meant!" He cut off, exasperated. "I just didn't feel like answering."

"Why not?"

"I ALWAYS get asked that question," he sighed, twiddling his thumbs.

"And what do you ALWAYS answer with?" I asked.

"Guess."

"What do you mean, guess?" I began to ask, but was cut off by my phone ringing. I looked at the caller ID and saw it was Jonathon again.

"I'll be right back," I told The Joker, and stood up. Before I reached the door, he asked:

"Who is it?"

I turned to him.

"Guess."

I walked out of the room and into the hallway. I answered my phone.

"Yeah?" I asked. "Make it quick! I'm interviewing a patient."

"Look towards your left." Jonathon said, and I followed his instructions. He was leaning against a pillar with his phone in his ear. He didn't look very happy. I squealed and jumped into the air. I ran over to him and gave him a hug. He hugged me back, but he was tense. I stepped away from him and looked at him curiously.

"What's wrong?" I asked, grabbing his hand.

"I, I," he began stuttering, and rubbed his face in his free hand. "I have to go."

"What do you mean, go?" I questioned, swinging his arm side to side. "Go where?"

"Away from here," he continued, not looking me in the eye. I could tell this was tough for him. "The bat keeps messing me up. I've gotta leave, forever. This is probably the last time I'll see you."

"Ok then," I said sternly. "I'll come with you. This town was starting to get boring anyways..." I drifted off with thoughts of the man in the other room.

"You might want to put a hold on your patient for a while," Jonathon suggested, gazing towards the door. "You and I need to talk." I nodded sadly, and went to tell Jirk and Gub to put The Joker away for a little bit. The two went into the room and I returned to my soon to be ex-boyfriend.

"You can't come with me," he continued, not taking his eyes away from the door. "It'd be too dangerous for you. I need to be alone until things clear up."

I sighed.

"I understand."

I looked down at the ground. Jonathon put his hand on my chin and lifted me towards his face. We kissed. The door opened, and Jirk and Gub had The Joker back in his straight jacket. There was a body guard on either side of him. I didn't look at him, but continued to kiss Jonathon. MAN was I going to miss him. The psychopath walked right passed us; I wasn't even sure he noticed us at all. When they had disappeared, that's when we parted.

"I guess this is," I swallowed. "Good-bye, then. When're you leaving?"

"Tomorrow morning," he told me, and brushed a piece of hair behind my ear. "I've got one last thing to do tonight, and then I'm gone."

"Alright then," I sniffed. He brushed a tear off of my cheek. I hadn't even realized that I had been crying. "I must return to my patient. So, good-bye, Jonathon Crane."

"Good-bye, Harleen Quinzel."


	2. Aw, You Missed Me?

I needed a moment to pull myself back together

I needed a moment to pull myself back together. I was NOT about to have any of my patients see me like this. Then again, I'm pretty sure The Joker already saw me. I went to the bathroom and fixed my hair and make-up, making me looking normal again. I called Jirk and Gub to put my patient back into the interrogation room. Minutes later, I was sitting across from the psychopath once again.

"Sorry about that interruption," I apologized with a sigh. He didn't seem too bothered by it.

"Was that the man who called you?" he asked lazily, licking his lips.

"You know, I'M supposed to be the one asking the questions," I pointed out to him. "And YOU'RE the one who's supposed to answer them."

"But you're my doctor!" he began to explain. "Aren't we supposed to be friends? And friends know all…about…each other."

"Once again, I'm not you're average doctor."

"Not your average patient." he retorted, holding up his handcuffed hands.

"I see…" I said and swallowed.

"Was it?"

"Was what it?" I inquired.

"Was that him? The guy who called you?" he repeated. I rolled my eyes and sighed.

"Yes, it was him," I answered, folding my arms. "Why do you care so much?"

"Because I want to kill him," he said nonchalantly. My heart stopped for a second.

"Why do you want to kill him?" I questioned tensely.

"He made you cry," he elucidated. "That wasn't very nice."

"And that bothers you? You, a man who's killed so many people?"

"Yep."

"Interesting…" I mumbled, searching in my briefcase for a piece of paper and a pen, overlooking the fact that it was empty. Instead, I found a single flower in it. Some, strange exotic flower that I did not recognize. I picked it up vigilantly, and examined it, making sure that The Joker did not see it. It was a bright purple and a dark green, with a bulky, extensive stem. I threw it back in my briefcase and shut the lid promptly. I gazed up slowly and curiously at him. He had his head tilted to the side and he was staring at me, with a small grin on his clown-face.

"What did you find?" he asked leisurely.

"Er…nothing," I lied to him and cleared my throat. "Anyways, Joker-"

"Want to see a trick?" he asked, interrupting me. He fanned his fingers threw the air.

"Not really-" I began, but cut myself off. How was he able to move his hands apart like that when he was…

I stood up and ran to the door and yelled out, "Security!" Jirk and Gub came moments later, with curious looks on their faces.

"He, he…somehow…took his handcuffs off!" I informed them, alarmed. The two guards raced over to him and picked him up by his shoulders. The Joker held his…handcuffed hands up and waved at them. He smirked at me.

"But-but he…" My explanation trailed off. Was he messing with my mind?

Girk rolled his eyes and Jub sighed, both setting the psychopath back onto his chair.

"I think you should take a break, Dr. Quinzel," Girk suggested, and Jub nodded his head.

"No I do not need a break." I grumbled at them, folding my arms. The two shrugged and left the room. I took my seat, but this time more attentively.

"See?" he asked idly. "Wasn't that a great trick?" My eyes widened.

"So you DID do that!" I asked, astonished. I then chuckled and clapped my hands a couple of times. I had to admit, it was pretty cool. He bowed his head.

"Impressive," I complimented, but then turned serious. "Enough games."

"But I like games."

"How did you get those scars?" I blurted out, unintentionally. But, once it was out, it was out. I didn't regret it.

"I'll tell you a little story," The Joker started, standing up and sauntering around the table. "I had this older brother, who was crazy, not right in the head," he explained, twirling his finger around his head. "But he always knew how to make me laugh. One day, he held a knife up to my mom and asked me, 'isn't this funny, brother?' I shook my head and told him no. He took the knife away from my mom and held it up to me, saying, 'why aren't you laughing?' I told him it wasn't funny. He puts the knife up to my face and says, 'I want to see you LAUGH.'"

He was right behind me when he said that last sentence and he put one of his hands on my left shoulder.

"So he put a permanent laugh on my face…" he mumbled, leaning his face next to mind. I continued to stare straight ahead, feeling a shiver rundown my back. I felt something cold and sharp on my right cheek.

"Want to see how?" he whispered. I opened my mouth and screamed, surprised that he was allowing me to do it. The door burst open, and the two body guards jumped inside, with an alarmed look on their faces. The knife was gone from my cheek, and The Joker was sitting casually across from me, no knife to be seen.

"Doctor, we're bringing The Joker back to his room, now," Gub said distractedly, and the two went and took The Joker, leaving the room. But just before the door was closed, I heard him laugh a sadistic, psychotic laugh that echoed throughout the halls.

Now I know why everyone's afraid of him. He plays games with you, and enjoys the pain he brings upon you. I thought I would be feeling…scared, angry, afraid, some normal emotion like that. Instead, I felt…intrigued, bewildered, and, most surprising of all, entertained. It was like The Joker was putting on a show for me, and just me. There was something about him that amazed me. But I knew I couldn't go near him anymore, not after today. Dr. Reynolds was probably going to higher someone else to deal with him, someone who won't react like I did.

I was lying in my bed, with my head dangling off the foot of it. I had a bowl of bubble gum ice cream in my hand and I was watching the news.

"We have apprehended one of the most dangerous drug-dealers in Gotham," the newscaster with the brown, perfect slicked back hair said. "Dr. Jonathon Crane, who used to work with the DA's office, was found tied up, by none other than the Batman. You may recall him also being known as, 'the scarecrow.' Many pounds of drugs were found with him."

The screen was suddenly covered with ice cream and shards of my bowl. I was no longer lying on my bed, but standing furiously on the floor. How could they lock my Jonathon up in jail? I was not mad, not angry, but PISSED. And worst of all, Dr. Reynolds had me knocked back down to intern at the asylum.

"…bastards…" I mumbled to myself as I vehemently folded my arms. But what could I do? I doubt I could get him out of jail. I do suppose I could visit him, now. That was a plus. Now what do I do? I was bored, and wasn't allowed back at the asylum for a couple of days to, 'cool off and recharge,' as Dr. Reynolds had put it. I went to my fridge, opened the door, and notice the lack of food. Maybe it was time I did some grocery shopping.

I locked the door behind me, making sure to hear the sharp, 'click.' Putting my keys back in my little purple purse, I began to walk towards the nearest Wal-Mart. Maybe it was just me being paranoid, but I could've SWORN that people were following me. Big guys, with hands the size of my face. It was a little…scary. I took a breath and thought to myself, 'ignore them. The Joker's just getting to you. Relax, think of Jonathon-no wait, never mind. DON'T think of him.'

I felt someone bump me from behind. It was one of the big guys I thought-no IMAGINED were following me.

"Excuse me!" I said cheerfully, and turned around and continued on my way. But before I could do that, the man grabbed my arm and began dragging me towards an empty alleyway. He pushed me against a wall and held something in front of his face. It looked like a card. The big guy shoved it in my jacket pocket before I got the chance to get a good look at it. Then, to my surprise, he walked away. I was shaking from head to toe. But hey, at least I wasn't marred. I took a deep breath again, and walked back into the busy streets of Gotham.

Casually, I pulled the card out of my pocket, and it was HIS card. The Joker card. There were some words scribbled on it:

'I MISS YOU.'

I turned around, forgetting all about the groceries, and power walked as fast as I could, home.

My telephone began to ring, and I went to answer it.

"Hello?" I asked distractedly. Ever since I had gotten home, I'd been sitting at my computer in my apartment, doing research.

"Uh, Ms. Quinzel?" a familiar voice said through the receiver.

"Yep!" I said, a little more cheerfully. "What is it doctor?"

"We need you to come down here right now."

"Something wrong?" I asked curiously.

"Yes, it's The Joker," he began, sounding extremely weary. He instantly had my full attention. "He won't talk to any of our other psychologists. We only heard him say one thing: Quinzel."

"Sooo… you want me back?" I asked with a smirk.

"Yes," he told me, exasperated.

"You're old," I told him bluntly. "You need to take it easy."

"Will do," he said sarcastically.

I opened the door into the little room, and saw him staring at me, boredom just screaming on his face.

"You're back," he said neither happily nor angrily. "I missed you."

"I could tell," I said with a smile, the image of his card flashed through my mind. "Why is it that you would only talk to me?"

He shrugged and said, "There's something about you that I like." I wanted to say the same thing right back at him.

"Well, you wanted me, you got me. Now talk."

"Did you love him?" he asked, folding his handcuffed hands on the table.

"This again?" I moaned, slumping in my chair. "What is it with you? You want to know so much about me! I know so little about you, and I'm the doctor!"

"Answer my question, and I'll answer one of yours," he negotiated. I sighed and nodded my head.

"Fine," I mumbled. "Ok, yes, I did love him. He was my boyfriend."

"What was his name?" he continued. This man just looked so bored! Even after I gave him the information he wanted.

"Sorry, I can't give out that sort of information."

"Was it Jonathon Crane?" I froze as soon as he said that. How did he know?

"N-No, it wasn't…" I lied, but I knew he didn't believe me.

"Oh relax!" The Joker told me. "I'm in here! Not like there's anything I can do to him."

"But what about your thugs?" I asked pointedly, crossing my arms and glaring at him. "One of them paid me a little visit today. Gave me this."

I threw him the card. He didn't pick it up; just merely stared at it.

"That's my card," he told me.

"OBVIOUSLY."

"It's so cute that you wanted to come back to me SO badly, that you would scribble a bunch of words on the back of the card I gave you." the psychotic clown told me.

I stared at him, and my eye began to twitch. He grinned.

"Am I making you mad?"

"No, PISSED." I corrected him smoothly. I had to calm down. I knew this is how he got to people. I would NOT let him get to me. "I believe it was YOU who wanted me back. You wouldn't talk to any other psychiatrist; the only thing you said was my last name…the list goes on and on."

He licked his lips.

"No response?" I asked with a smile. I had been triumphant. "Maybe it's time that I start asking some questions, hm?" He said nothing.

"Alrighty then," I began, searching for something to ask him. "Why do you get enjoyment out of other people's pain?"

Silence.

I slammed my fist on the table. "Come ON! You told me you would answer one of my questions if I answered on of yours!"

"It makes me happy to see their faces staring at me in horror," he explained quietly. "To know that I have the power over their life. It's quite fun, you should join me some time."

I hadn't realized that I had been holding my breath. I let it go slowly, and continued to stare at him. I hadn't expected an answer like THAT to come out of him.

His head was tilted sideways and he was staring at me in a startling way. A horn blasted outside.

"Ah!" he exclaimed happily. "That's my cue!"

He stood up and his hands were no longer in handcuffs. He walked over towards me with a knife in his hand. All I could do was stare at him, knowing that he was going to kill me. He picked me up by my arm and put the knife to my throat. Surprisingly, I wasn't scared, but mystified. He leaned into my ear and whispered;

"Ok, I know you're not very scared, but I need you to pretend to be so I can get out of here. Alright? Alright. Let's go."

The Joker dragged me through the door and passed the security guards, all the way up to the front entrance. There was a green van waiting outside the clear set of double doors. I did my best to look scared. He gave me a kiss on the cheek and pushed me to the ground. I heard the door open, and gun shots rang through the air. I rushed to hide under the security guard's desk and hid. When they were all over, my head popped up.

"He's gone!" Jirk yelled, but Gub was nowhere in sight. "And Girk was helping him!"


	3. The Fuzz

Gotham City Police had come a few moments after The Joker had left in all his glory

Gotham City Police had come a few moments after The Joker had left in all his glory. I was leaning against the wall, dazzled, by his…his…god I didn't know how to explain it. Everything about him was amazing. How was he able to plan all of this? Since when was Jirk working for him? All sorts of questions were buzzing in my head like a swarm of bees. Angry, pissed off bees. I watched as they sky turned pink as the sun began to set.

"Dr. Quinzel?" an officer asked me. I turned to face him, lazily. I had no interest in this man. Then again, maybe I could get some information out of him.

"Yeeeeah?" I asked childishly, batting my eye lashes over my baby blue eyes. The officer swallowed. Hm, he was kinda chunky. An image of him pursuing a walking donut popped into my mind, and I giggled, causing him to blush. He had brown, balding hair, and a little toothbrush mustache. The policeman took out a handkerchief and dabbed his sweating face.

"Y-You were the, the, uh," he stuttered at me, and I tilted my face to the side. "His doctor, r-right?" I nodded my head exuberantly. The officer looked down, and then looked back up. I followed his eyes. He was, well let's just say, 'happy.' The officer turned around and walked away from me, jiggling like jelly. I had to keep myself from laughing. Well HE was a waste of time. Another officer came over, but this time I recognized him. He'd been around the asylum before, talking to some of the patients who were associated in who knows what. I never had the pleasure of meeting him.

"Dr. Quinzel?" Lieutenant Gordon said to me, and judging by the look on my face, he wasn't going to fall for any of my tricks. I sighed and nodded my head with less enthusiasm. "You were the psychopath's doctor, right?"

"Yes, Dr. Harleen Quinzel, Lieutenant." I told him, sticking out my hand for him to shake. He shook it.

"I'd like to ask you some questions."

"Alrighty, what do you need to know about me?" I asked, taking a seat in the security guard's desk. Gordon sat on the desk with a notepad and a pencil.

"How did he act during your sessions?" was his first question.

"Bored." I stated.

"Did he ever say anything or do anything…" he searched for the right word. "Disturbing?"

"Ahuh." I told him, and he looked at me expectantly. "He was always messing with my mind. He asked if I wanted to see a trick, and he flashed his hands through the air," I demonstrated this to him. "And his hand cuffs were gone. When security came, they were back on him. Then, another time, he was walking around in the room, telling me a story about how he got his scars, when he put his hand on my shoulder and put, what felt like a knife to my cheek. I screamed for security, and it was gone."

"Are you alright?" he asked me, looking a little startled.

"Yes," I told him, looking at him curiously. "Why wouldn't I be?"

"I don't know," he began to explain. "You sounded as if you were dazed and confused. Do you need some sleep?" I shook my head.

"Alright then," he said, more relaxed. "I understand that after that last situation you told me about, Dr. Reynolds told you to go home?" I nodded. "And then told you to come back?" I nodded again, feeling as bored as The Joker must've looked whenever I talked to him. "Why?"

"Because he told me that The Joker would talk to no one else but me," I informed him, a little smugly.

"And you willingly came back?"

"Yep."

"Why?" he inquired curiously.

"Because during my little break, I went to go to the store to buy some groceries, when some big guy pulled me into an alleyway and gave me a joker card. On the back of it someone wrote, 'I miss you.'" I explained to him in one breath.

"Do you still have this card?" he asked, and I shook my head.

"I left it in the room that we were in."

"We searched the room. There was nothing in there." Gordon informed me. "I think you need to be protected from The Joker. It seems he knows where you live."

"I'll be ok," I moaned, brushing my blond hair behind my ear. "I'm sure he has more important things to do than to stalk me."

"We're not taking any chances. We are going to have police escort you to your home and have a guard around your house," Lieutenant Gordon told me, all official-like. I shook my head, protesting.

"I don't think he's going to come to my house!" I hollered, but secretly hoped that he would.

"Sorry, police precaution."

I was sitting on my bed again as I was before, but this time annoyed. One of the police officers was in my kitchen, raiding my vacant fridge. I could hear him cussing under his breath about there being no food, and I grinned to myself, secretly glad that I did not go to the grocery store yesterday.

There was nothing good on tv, so I flipped it off and walked over to my computer in the corner. I checked my email, and saw that there was only one unread message. It was from the asylum, the weekly newsletter. I clicked it open, and it said the asylum was going to reopen again tomorrow, and we could all return. Then there was a reminder about the 30th annual Arkham Asylum Masquerade Ball that was this weekend. I squealed to myself, and the officer looked at my suspiciously. I rolled my eyes at him. I LOVED the annual masquerade ball! I loved to get all dressed up and have no one know who I am for a whole night. I sighed happily, but then scowled. I don't have a date this year. My boyfriend was behind stupid freeking bars. Only one other person came to mind, but that was an impossibility. A, I had no idea where he was. B, there was no way that I could contact him. And C, he was being hunted down by the GCP. I sat back in my chair in a huff. There was no way I could find a date in two days. I didn't even have a costume yet.

Next to my computer where it was charging, my phone vibrated.

_One New Text Message_ It read. I flipped open my little red razor and read the message.

'_I MISS YOU_.'

I smiled to myself. Should I respond? I called over the police officer.

"What?" he grumbled.

"Play rock, paper, scissors with me, ok Chuck?" I commanded, holding my right hand in my left palm.

"It's Charlie…" he mumbled, but held out his hand so it mimicked mine. If he won, I didn't respond. If I won, I did respond.

"Rock, paper, scissors!" I yelled, and he won. He had rock, I had scissors. I scowled. "Best two out of three!"

Lucky me, I won the next to rounds. I shouted my thanks and returned to my computer, texting away on my phone.

'_MISS YOU 2_'I sent to him. I thought for a second, and sent him another text. This one saying:

'_GOT A DATE 4 THE MASQUERADE BALL AT THE ASYLUM THIS WEEKEND?_'

I waited a whole hour for him to respond and: nothing. I sighed and put my phone back down.

The Joker's beautiful white face kept flashing through my mind. What was it about him that drew me to him? His geniusness? His bad boy aura? Or maybe it was that purple coat of his. I had no idea.

I decided that I should take a shower, to clear my head. I grabbed a pair of blue flannel pj bottoms and a blue shirt along with a green towel. I spent the next half hour surrounded by steam and hot water.

When I was finished, I put my pj's on and stepped out into my room, squeezing the water out of my hair with a towel.

Chuck was sitting at my kitchen table, rather motionless. I knew SOMETHING had to be up. I slowly and cautiously walked towards him and stopped when I saw the front of him. He had three cuts on him. Two were on either side of his mouth. The third was his throat, which was slit open, and blood was splattered all over him and my good kitchen table. A normal person would probably freak out and scream. No such urges hit me.

I backed up slowly to my bed and climbed on top of it. What to do now? I probably had to run outside and call the police. Then I took a glance at the sliding glass doors that led out to my little veranda. On the doors, written in blood, most likely Chuck's, was the message:

'_SEE YOU THERE._'

Blood was sliding down from each letter, creating red veins on my door. A smiley face was drawn next to it. I walked over to it and touched it, leaving my fingerprint in the smiley face. I went to the bathroom and washed my hands, and then decided I had to tell the others that were outside.

I opened my front door, it was like a massacre had occurred. There were five guards slain against the wall and on the floor. Blood was smeared down the hallway. I could see that someone dipped their hand in the blood and walked down the hallway, gently gliding their hand along the wall. Each was killed a different way. One officer's shoulder was pinned to the wall with a knife. One had his throat slit open. Another was stabbed in the heart, another had a knife in his head. One guard, the leader of the group, had his stomach slit open, and I could see some of his organs dangling out. It was a gruesome sight. Another message was on the wall directly across from me. This one said:

'_KEEP ON SMILING_.'

Lieutenant Gordon had me immediately removed from my home and placed in a hotel. I told him I wasn't going to leave town, and that I was going to go to the masquerade. He allowed me to stay in town, but didn't grant my second wish. Like he was going to stop me.

I still had to find a costume, and the ball was tomorrow. It was October, so it shouldn't be too hard finding a costume store. First I had to avoid the fuzz. That shouldn't be too hard, either, because of my gymnastic skills. I escaped my prison via my window and drain pipes. For the first time in three days, I was alone. There were no guards to 'protect' me.

I walked down the dark streets of Gotham, searching for a good store. I finally found one that said: _THE JACK-IN-THE-BOX. _I figured that this was my best bet.

I pushed the door open, and heard the little tinkling of a bell. The little welcome mat that I stepped on shrieked at me. This was sure a creepy-ass store. Everything was black; the walls, the carpeting, the shelves, everything. Terrifying clown masks hung from the wall, along with voodoo dolls and fake torture devices. I waltzed up to one the shelves and began my quest for the perfect costume.

"May I help you?" someone asked from behind me. I turned around and nodded my head. It was a man, who looked about forty, forty five years old. He had a full head of black hair that was short and spikey. He was wearing a tight black shirt and black skinny jeans. I shuddered. I hated when guys wore those tight pants. Made them look like girls. He looked at me with hazel eyes, eyeing me as if I was a piece of candy.

"Yes!" I said cheerfully. "I'm looking for a costume to wear at a masquerade ball."

His smirk was gone. He looked at me a little fearfully.

"Is your name Harleen?" he asked shakily, and I nodded my head slowly. How did he know?

"Your, uh, friend came in here earlier," he began to explain to me. "He told me to give you this." Creepy-pants went behind his counter and pulled out a purple and green vertically striped bag. I couldn't tell what was inside. He handed it to me carefully, and I took it. I peered inside and saw a hanger. I picked it up, and out came a long one-piece. It was almost like a checkerboard of black and red, except there was only four squares. The suit connected to a head piece that looked like a jester's hat. At the bottom of the bag was a simple white mask made to look like a clown. A happy, cheerful clown. I smiled at it. It was perfect.

I looked back up at Creepy-pants and asked, "Did you catch the guy's name?"

He shook his head.

"He only left this." He held up a joker card. Ah, of course.


	4. The Masquerade Surprise

I texted the Joker again

I texted The Joker again. This time writing:

'_I CAN'T GET OUT OF MY ROOM. 2 MANY GUARDS._'

He didn't have to text me back for me to know he was going to do something about it.

It was the night of the masquerade ball, and I was putting my awesomely awesome costume on. Of course, I had to sneak the bag into the bathroom so that the guards in my room wouldn't see it. It fit perfectly, and made my curves more prominent. I pulled the hat on over my head and shook it from side to side, giggling at the little tinkling that the bells made. I had to admit it; I was one sexy checkerboard. The costume had no shoes, but I managed to find some long black boots at a near-by shoe store. I was all ready to go.

The ball started at 9 o'clock, and it was currently 8:30. It would only take me about fifteen minutes to drive to the place where the event was being held. So I had fifteen minutes to kill. The Joker had about fifteen men to kill. What to do, what to do…

I heard a great 'thud' occur out in the hallway of the hotel room. The two officers that were in my room were gone, most likely out in the hallway bleeding all over the ugly puke-pink carpeting. I slipped my mask onto my face and peered into the hallway. My assumption had been correct. He did an even better job here than he had at my apartment. And, once again, without me hearing a single shriek of terror.

All of the bodies had their throats slit, and The Joker had formed some their bodies into one giant smile. Two men being the eyes, and three were used to make the mouth. The rest were just scattered in a bloody mess. On the wall across from me were two officers, hand-cuffed together to look like they were dancing. One had a tux drawn on his uniform in blood, the other had a dress drawn on him. The one in the tux had both sides of his mouth cut. Something told me it was supposed to be me and him.

It was like a masterpiece that he had sketched out for me. It was so romantic.

I stepped over the bodies carefully, making sure not to step on any of them. I didn't want my costume to get polluted with blood.

I called a taxi and told him the address of where the ball was being held; it was going to be at the Gothamplex, this beautiful and fancy building with a large ballroom. I was surprised that we were able to afford something such as imperial as the Plex.

The driver dropped me off at the front door, and I stared at the three story building and its long white columns. Lovely.

Anticipation was fizzing up inside of me. I could not wait to see him again, and this time without any handcuffs. I could feel sweat starting to form on my forehead underneath my happy clown mask. I knew he had picked this mask out especially for me, because of my attitude. It made me feel smug.

I walked in through the doors and did not care for the long and elegant staircase, the intricate designs of the walls, nor the beauty of the bright chandelier. I had one thing on my mind, and he was no decoration.

"Would you like to dance, beautiful?" a man asked. This was the tenth request of the night, and it had been two hours. I sighed and nodded my head, agreeing only because I was bored.

"Sure," I mumbled. The guy, who was wearing a tux and a full-face tiger mask, didn't even care how my response sounded like, as long as it was a yes. He snaked his little hand behind my back and his little fingers in-between mine and we started to waltz. As long as I was here, I might as well show off a bit. Whenever he went to twirl me, I did a little pirouette, looking elegant and graceful. I knew I was a quite a spectacle.

"Who are you?" he asked me, mesmerized, when I returned from my twirl. I giggled at him.

"You'll find out in fifty minutes!"

He said nothing, but continued dancing for another half hour, when we were both tired and wanted a drink.

"So," he began slyly, putting 'the moves' on me. Cat-face wrapped his little hand around my waist as he handed me my glass. "Are you going to let me kiss you at midnight?"

I smiled at him, even though he couldn't see it. "If you live that long…" I mumbled. When he asked what it was I said, I told him, "Nothing!"

A man came up to the microphone. "Alright, folks! It's five minutes till midnight! Grab your special someone and enjoy the final dance of the night!"

Cat-face tugged on my arm and led me back out to the dance floor. He tried starting up a conversation with me.

"So, do you have a boyfriend?" he asked, visibly trying to be nonchalant and failing.

"WELL," I began, wondering where to start. "I DID have on, but he's in jail now. But there's this guy that I like, and I think he might like me back. Sadly, he's a murdering psychopath. That doesn't bother ME at all, of course. He said he was going to show up tonight, but I haven't seen him. But there are still four minutes left…"

My life-story made him speechless. He still danced with me, but I could tell he felt awkward. Good.

The man was at the mic again. "Let's start the countdown! Ten, nine, eight, seven…"

The ballroom was echoing with the countdown to midnight. Even I joined in chipperly.

"Three, two one-"

The final number was surpassed by a loud gunshot that rang through the air. Cat-face let go of me suddenly, and I turned around just in time to see him fall to the ground. A small hole that wasn't there before was gushing out red blood from his chest. I didn't give him a second thought. The only thing I said was:

"He's here."

Screams were rebounding off of the walls, and a stampede of people were running to the doors. But, unfortunately for them, they were being blocked off by men wearing eerie clown masks.

"Ladies and gentlemen!" A voice rang out from the speakers. Everyone's head turned to the stage where The Joker, wearing his usual attire, was holding the microphone. "No need to be alarmed! I'm just here to party like the rest of you. Now," he licked his lips. "I'm looking for someone, maybe you could help me. She's wearing a jester's costume? Black and red checkerboard with a little jingly hat. Anyone?" He walked out into the crowd, stepping close to people as he asked the questions. Everyone leaped away from him as if he were a cockroach. A cockroach wearing clown make-up.

His eyes finally landed on me, but his expression didn't change.

"You look like someone with answers!" he bellowed out to me. He dragged his finger down the side of my face all the way to my shoulder. The places where his gloved fingers touched left a trail of goose bumps. He pulled out a flower from his coat pocket, the same one that I had found in my suitcase, and handed it to me, making sure to step on cat-face.

I took it daintily, and my heart thudded away in my chest.

"It's midnight," he told me quietly, getting dangerously close. "Why're you still wearing your mask? I want to see those pretty blue eyes of yours."

I shook my head slowly, teasing him.

"You kinda killed the person I was dancing with."

He gazed down at the man he was stepping on and then back up to me. He held his hand out expectantly.

"You're dancing with ME, now," he told me. His voice was so menacing, so fearful, it made my heart flutter. I accepted his hand and he pulled me to the center of the room. Everyone backed away from us like we were a couple of freaks.

"I missed you," he mumbled to me, and I shivered.

"You always do," I replied in a dream-like tone.

In his arms, I felt like a cloud. I floated across the floor, never once taking my eyes off of him. He lifted the hand he was holding gently and kissed it, licking his lips afterwards. Was it normal to be jealous of my hand?

Police sirens began to ring through the air. Neither of us seemed to notice.

"Aw, I guess our fun is over!" I griped sadly. He shook his index finger from side to side.

"Not when I'm in control," The Joker sang. He pulled out some sort of remote from a jacket pocket, the opposite one that had my flower in it. The remote had two buttons on it. In his other hand there was a knife, and he walked back over to cat-face and ripped his shirt open with the knife. Taped to cat-face's body was a bomb, and more screams arose from the surrounding viewers. He picked up the microphone again.

"You get out of here if I get out of here," he told his spectators. He pressed the bottom button, and the wall behind him exploded, sending debris everywhere. I was standing ten feet away from him. He made no gesture for me to come.

When all the dust had cleared, there was a helicopter ladder hanging down from somewhere up high. All of The Joker's goons hitched a ride on it, and then finally The Joker himself. He didn't climb up to the helicopter, but held onto the bottom rung.

Was he leaving me? Again? Without saying good-bye?

I ran up to him and yelled over the sound of the helicopter. "What about me?"

He didn't say anything, but slowly took off my mask and grinned at my hopeful face.

"Keep on smiling," he said, and the helicopter took off, leaving me standing and disappointed. I could hear his distinct laughter ringing throughout the night sky.

The police wrapped me up in a dark brown blanket and sat me in an ambulance. Not like I was hurt or anything. They said it was just, 'precaution,' because I had been so near the explosion. Lieutenant Gordon was questioning me…again.

"Have you had contact with The Joker after his escape?" he asked me wearily, rubbing his temples.

"Yep," I told him honestly.

"Then why didn't you report that?"

"Not like you guys could've done anything." I mumbled.

"We could've traced it," he informed me angrily. "This WOULD explain the messages he left on the wall at your apartment. What else has he said to you?"

"Just that he'd see me here, and stuff like that," I told him, trying to play dumb. "I had no idea what he was talking about."

"Your cell phone says otherwise."

"I didn't know that it was REALLY The Joker!" I tried to explain. "I thought it was just a joke."

"Either way, we're going to have to hide you again," Gordon said with a sigh. "Did you know that he slaughtered your guards again?"

"What?!" I shrieked. Oh, I was such a good little actress! "I had no idea! I just slipped out the window. They wouldn't let me come here."

He looked at me suspiciously, and I looked at him innocently. I knew that he was onto me.

"The guests said you danced with him," he told me. "Is this true?"

"Yes," I said. "Only because he threatened to kill me like he killed cat-face."

"You mean the man that was shot?"

"Ahuh. I didn't want to dance with him. He made me."

He let out a breath.

There was suddenly a huge explosion from behind. We all whipped our heads around to see the Gothamplex collapsing into a fiery inferno. Large clouds of smoke were billowing in the air, and flames were reaching out to us. The beautiful white columns were falling onto police cars and the fire engine, adding screaming crashes into the already violent atmosphere.

I was the only one that laughed.


	5. Keep On Smiling

Why didn't he take me with him? What's wrong with me? I thought I was special because of all the things he did for me. Was their some hidden meaning to what he said? Keep on smiling…keep on smiling…keep on smiling…

I was at the police department, sitting on the floor near one of the officer's desks. Lieutenant Gordon was trying to talk to me, but I didn't hear him. I only heard myself and my thoughts.

The phone rang. I didn't even notice. Keep on smiling…keep on smiling…

Gordon's POV:

There was something wrong with this girl. For the passed three hours I've been trying to talk to her and get some more information. The sun was already beginning to rise.

She was just staring, staring at the ground with a confused yet crazed look on her face. Ever now and then she would mumble: "Keep on smiling…" And then she would drift back off into her thoughts. It must've been something The Joker said to her. She was still in her masquerade costume, but her hood was down, revealing blond pigtails. Her mask was on the floor next to her. Occasionally she would tap her fingers on it, filling the silent room up with little taps.

In the back of my mind, I knew she wasn't the victim. She wasn't afraid of him, more like the opposite. She was a good little actress; fooled the rest of the officers. Or maybe they were all distracted by her good looks. She was a beautiful young lady, but I wasn't attracted to people like her. She used people. What's got her so frazzled?

The phone rang, and the officer at the desk answered it.

"Lieutenant?" he called out to me with a mouth-full of donuts. I wearily raised my head to look at him. "There's been a bank robbery. Say it was The Joker."

I jumped out of my seat. "Do we have him?"

The officer put the receiver to the phone and repeated the question. He shook his head and said: "We've got some of his henchmen, but they're all dead."

I sighed, and rubbed my temples. "I guess we'll have to go down and check it out. Rogers, you stay here and watch after Ms. Quinzel."

Rogers nodded his head and continued eating his donut, putting down the phone.

Harleen's POV:

It didn't come to my attention that Gordon had left until who knows how long, but the sun was now on the opposite side of where I last saw it. It had to been several hours ago.

I was starting to come to my senses, but my mind was still a whirlwind of thoughts. Keep on smiling…

An idea hit me.

Did he want me to PROVE myself to him?

I could be a psychotic killer, too. I could rob banks. I could plant bombs. I could do all of that. I could be like HIM.

I looked around the room and all I saw was a desk, the donut-eating officer, and a pair of scissors. Big, sharp, orange, scissors. Slowly, I crept underneath the desk so Big Boy here wouldn't see me. I waited a few minutes for him to realize I was gone, and when he did, he stood up and walked around to where I was previously sitting. I slid into his chair and quickly grabbed the scissors from the cup of pencils. I waited for him expectantly. He finally saw me, and breathed a sigh of relief.

"You scared me!" he said, wiping his sweaty forehead with his meaty hands. "I thought you'd ran away or something. The Lieutenant would kill me!"

He walked back over to his chair and asked me if he could have his seat back. I was thoughtful for a moment.

"Of course!" I said, and then held my finger up. "But first you have to answer a few questions."

"Well, um, ok, I guess so," he mumbled uncertainly. He rested his hand on the desk.

"How do you put a giraffe in a fridge?" I asked. He was thoughtful.

"You can't," he said. I held my finger up once more.

"Of course you can!" I told him. "Take out all of the things inside the fridge, and put him in there. Strike one!"

I lashed out she scissors at his hand and cut off his thumb, his index finger, and his middle finger. He held his hand in pain and hunched over it. The officer was screaming wildly. I stood up and walked around him.

"Next question!" I shouted, twirling the scissors in my hands. "How would you put an elephant in the fridge?"

His response was a moan.

"Wrong, again, tubby," I said, and kicked him to the ground so that his head collided with the stone wall. He let go of his hand and held his bloody head instead. He was still screaming, louder and louder. "You take out the giraffe and put the elephant inside of it."

"Next question," I hummed, leaning against the wall where he lay. He was now whimpering as he stared at me with terrified eyes. "All the animals were having a big banquet. One animal didn't show up. Who was it?"

"The c-c-cat?" he answered hopefully. I looked down at him sadly and shook my head.

"No, I'm afraid not. You're thinking of the Chinese Zodiac!"

I cut his Santa Clause-like stomach three times. Blood began to stain his uniform. His screaming was getting annoying. I put the scissors up to his mouth.

"You better quiet down now," I warned him, putting more pressure into the scissors. "Your cries are giving me a headache."

He closed his eyes and bit his lip.

"Good boy," I praised him, rubbing his head. "If you live, I'll give you a cookie."

His eyes snapped open and he looked at me once again with wide, terrified eyes. He continued his moaning.

"Last and FINAL question," I told him. "This one is worth 90 of your final grade. Now, there is a river that is home to lots of alligators. How do you cross it?"

He simply gaped at me. I made a loud noise that sounded like a buzzer.

"Unfortunately for you, you are once again INCORRECT," I shrieked the last word and him and giggled. "Sorry, but you failed the final exam. Ta-ta!"

I put the scissors up to his throat and sliced it open, watching excitedly as the blood came pouring out like lava from a volcano. His moaning ceased and he lay there limp, his body leaning against the wall. I threw the scissors down and patted myself on the back. I was rather proud of myself. I turned to the door expectantly, waiting for The Joker to jump into the room and applaud me for a job well done. No one came. My eager smile turned into a frown. I stomped my foot angrily. I stormed out the door and walked out into the darkening night.

I raised my bloody hand and placed it on the building beside me, wiping the blood off and leaving a red streak. No one was out.

My face was in the form of a scowl. What else could he want me to do? What else COULD I do?

I looked up at the building and saw that it was an apartment building. I smiled.

"There must be plenty of families living in such a poor residence," I said to myself slyly. "Maybe I could help them out."

Gordon's POV:

I walked back into the station at about seven o'clock, and I immediately knew something was wrong. Harleen was nowhere in sight. Rogers was lying down the floor. I moaned and walked over to him, kicking his side. Some sort of red liquid stuck to my black shoe. I leaned in closer to him and saw that he was covered in blood. His throat had been slit, his stomach cut open, and three fingers were missing on his right hand.

"God DAMN it!" I roared and pounded my fist onto the wall. The Joker must've done something to him, and then taken Harleen. He must've left his card here somewhere. I began crawling on the floor looking for it, when all of the other officers entered the room. They all gasped in surprise.

"Lieutenant, what happened?" One of them asked fearfully, already knowing the answer.

"The Joker was born," I mumbled angrily.

The phone rang again, and the officer that spoke answered it.

"Hello?" he said into the receiver. "Good god. We'll be right over." He hung up the phone. "Lieutenant?"

"What?" I snarled at him.

"Someone broke into a nearby apartment building," he began. "Whoever it was killed all of the residence."

"How close?"

"Two buildings away from here."

I stood up resignedly, propping myself up onto a chair. This was too much for me.

"They said that all they found was a trail of little bells leading from the doorway and up the stairs," he continued, rubbing his hands through his hair.

The little light bulb went off in my head.

"Good lord," I mumbled to myself. "It wasn't The Joker. It was Harleen Quinzel."


	6. Rise of a New Psycho

Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, THE JOKER, OR HARLEY QUINN

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, THE JOKER, HARLEY QUINN OR ANY OTHER BATMAN CHARACTERS MENTIONED. SOME SCENES FROM MOVIE, OR TRIED TO BE FROM MOVIE. NOT MINE. **

A low laughter began to fill the room. The men gazed around fearfully, wanting to know where it was coming from. Slowly, the laughter grew and grew, until the source had entered the room of mob dealers.

"Who the hell are you?" Gamblor demanded to know of this strange new presence.

The men greeted this man cautiously and nervously.

**"**I know why you choose to have your little…" The Joker stopped and coughed, taking a seat at the table. "Group therapy sessions in broad daylight. I know why you're afraid to go out at night." He paused. "The Batman."

"Give me one reason why I shouldn't have my boy here pull your head off," Gamblor threatened him, sending one of his guards toward the psychotic clown.

The Joker replied with: "How about a magic trick?" he pulled out a pencil and stabbed it into the table, forcing it to stand straight up.

"I'm gonna make this pencil disappear." The Joker took Gamblor's guard and slams his head into the pencil. "Ta-daa! It's... it's gone."

"You're crazy." The Gamblor muttered, disgusted.

"I'm not. No, I'm not." The Joker repeated. "Now, let's wind the clocks back a year. These cops and lawyers wouldn't dare cross any of you. I mean, what happened? Did your-did your balls drop off?"

"If it's so easy, why haven't you done it?" one of the mobsters shouted out.

"If you're good at something," The Joker began. "Never do it for free."

"How much do you want?" the same mobster asked. The Joker looked at him.

"Half," he declared plainly.

"Do you really think that we would let some…some," Gamblor thought of what to say. "Freak in a cheap costume steal from us and walk away?"

"Yeah," The Joker stated simply. "Oh, and by the way, the suit, it wasn't cheap. You oughta know, you bought it."

"I think we should just kill him now," Gamblor announced, and was backed up with a couple of grunts of approval.

A giggle reverberated off the walls, sending chills down the entire mob's backs. The Joker looked around curiously, checking to see if the sound had come from his pocket her from inside his jacket.

A black gloved hand appeared on his left leg, and then a red gloved one on his right. Slowly, from the small space in-between the Joker and the table, a slim body slithered out and onto the table.

Her face was fully covered with white make-up, and her eyes were surrounded with black, making her look like a burglar. Her lips were outlined and filled in with black. The girl had a full-bodied costume on with long black boots. The costume was almost like a checkerboard, but only of four squares; two red and two black, lying diagonally from each other.

If any of the mobsters were afraid a second ago, they weren't afraid now. They looked at her with interest and desire.

The Joker stared her boredly, as if this sort of thing happened everyday.

The whole time, the two didn't look away from each other. The girl had a big, mischievous smile on her painted face.

"You don't want to kill Mr. Jay," the girl sang happily. She did a backwards somersault into a handstand, and then proceeded to land perfectly on her feet.

"He's amazing!" she shouted, and waved her hands up in the air in an arc as if it would have proven her point. She squealed and spun on her heel.

"Who's this sweetheart?" one of them asked, and reached out to stroke her leg.

She gave him an evil, dirty look when he touched her, and responded by kicking him in the chest. The guy let out a choked gag, and held the spot where he was kicked. Protruding from her shoe was a small knife, stained with blood. The man fell off the chair and onto the floor and died.

"Whoopsie!" she apologized, scratching the back of her head. "Forgot about that one."

The Joker sighed, and put his index finger up. He curled and uncurled it, indicating for her to go to him.

"Harley," The Joker said, as if he were talking to a five year old that had just done something wrong.

She immediately stopped what she was doing and looked at him.

"Come here," he said in the same tone. She smiled at him and bowed, doing a cartwheel when she was finished. She landed with a slight 'plop' next to his chair.

"Yeah?" she asked obediently.

"I've got some business to attend to," he told her, grabbing her arm and pulling her towards the door gently. "Would you be a peach and go wait out by the van?"

Before she could answer, Gamblor said, "How about I pay five hundred thousand dollars to whoever brings him dead, and two million for the BOTH of them," he paused and grinned at Harley. "Alive. That way I can teach him a lesson and get a good piece of ass at the same time."

Her giggling was in the air again.

The Joker turned his head towards Gamblor, slowly.

"It's not polite to talk about another man's woman," he said slowly. Harley squealed in delight.

Gamblor snapped his fingers and two body guards went after the two of them.

The Joker opened his coat to reveal a setup of grenades on a string, and started to tug on it.

"Ah ta ta ta," he warned him, gesturing at the string. "Let's not 'blow' things out of proportion."

The guards backed away immediately.

"Look," he continued. "Why don't you give me a call when you want to start taking this a little more seriously? Here's my card." He reached into his jacket and pulled out a playing card, resting it lightly on the table. Harley leaned on the door frame and arched her back impatiently, looking elegant all the while.

The Joker backed up and out of the door, but Harley remained. She held up her hand and dropped something on the floor, causing the room to be filled with an explosion of smoke. The mobsters coughed and waved their hands, trying to clear the smoke away. When it finally did, she was gone.

The Joker grabbed Harley's neck and slammed her harshly on the wall of the alleyway. His knife was out in a second.

"Well hello there, DOCTOR," he said slyly, tracing his lips with his tongue and her face with the blade. "Good to see you again. I missed you."

She giggled. "Yeah, but I missed you more! Especially since you LEFT me at the masquerade. If I wasn't so clever, the police would've arrested me for something or other. Gordon never trusted me."

"Wonderful story cupcake," he said, pressing the knife harder and harder. She giggled louder and louder. "But you were more fun to play with when you were my doctor. I have no use of you now."

The atmosphere changed.

"Then do it," she said, her tone the complete opposite of what it was a second ago. This time, she spoke with a ruthless voice. "Kill me."

She said this with a devilish grin on her face.

He grinned. "That's what I want to hear!" he said, removing himself and the knife from her.

He stalked away from her and she toddled up to his side.

"What now boss?" she asked exuberantly.

"For me to know," he said, looking down at her.

"And for me to find out, yeah, yeah," Harley moaned, rolling her eyes.

"Not exactly," he said thoughtfully, and grabbed her wrist severely. "Did you know, that everything you do has a consequence? Good or bad?"

She looked up at him curiously, but not frightened.

"Well they do," he said, tired of waiting for her answer. "Like, for example, me playing my little game with you, this was MY consequence. You turning into this. Now," he paused, licking his lips. He took out his knife once again and sliced her upper arm open, cutting easily through her costume. She let out a little yip of pain.

"Your consequence," he told her nonchalantly, and tapped her head.

He threw her arm down again, and left her, continuing back to his awaiting white van.

"WAIT!" she cried out desperately, almost pitifully, clutching her new bleeding arm. "Why won't you take me with you? Haven't I proved myself to you?"

He didn't stop, didn't turn around, but opened the sliding door and jumped inside. He didn't even giver her one last look before closing the door.

Harley slumped against the wall and slid down pathetically. She didn't understand what she had done wrong. In a way, she was like him.

'No,' she thought to herself. 'I'm not like him. He's a genius. I'm nothing but a clown. A wannabe clown.'

She sat in silence until the sun, that was just over head, sunk deep behind the numerous buildings. Nobody seemed to notice her as she wasted away.

"Maybe," she said aloud. "Maybe this is what he wanted all along. This was how he destroyed people."

But the sad part, and she knew it, was that it wasn't that hard to push her. She gave away to him almost immediately.

"I'm so pathetic!" she wined, lifting up her hood and revealing her blond pigtails.

She jumped up angrily.

"This isn't over!" she screamed loudly, and stomped her foot multiple times. "He didn't destroy me! I'm still here! I'm still sane! Well, partially."

She looked up into the sky and saw the bright, white spot shining in the sky. The sign of the flying rat. The one that had thrown her boyfriend in jail.

"Hey, babe," a low, hoarse voice said from behind her.

She turned around slowly to see who had spoken. It was a middle-aged man, and he was wearing a black leather jacket. She couldn't tell what else he was wearing, due to the fact that it was much darker out. He was bald, as far as she could tell, and much bigger than she was. He went up to her and roughly grabbed her around the waste. She looked at him emotionlessly. Then an idea struck her.

"Quick question!" Harley said, trying to push him away from her. He began kissing her exposed neck. "Now, now, now! I was just wondering, do you by any chance work for a mob boss? Or a gang?"

He didn't stop kissing her.

"Please answer my question," she said, not so sweetly. When he didn't respond, she swung her leg over her head and kicked him in the neck, pinning him to the alleyway wall.

"I said please!" she said harshly. He attempted to remover her foot, but she held it in place firmly. "Don't test me. I test you."

"No," he mumbled, stopping his attempt at escaping.

"Good boy!" Harley squealed, delighted. "I'm not the police or anything, so you better not be lying. Oh, and do you have any friends?"

He eyed her curiously.

"If you get some of your buddies to help me," her voice changed from bright and happy, to seductive. "I'll give you anything you want."

His curiousness went away and he smiled, reaching out for her. She put her hand out to stop him.

"Uh, uh, uh!" she said, her normal voice returning. "Not yet. You still have to do what I ask. But!"

She went and kissed him, long and hard.

"Half now," she said, removing her foot. "Half later."

**Author's Note:** sorry if I TOTALLY butchered a couple of scenes in here. Only saw the movie a couple of times, don't remember them word for word. Yeah, this was my version. Probably not very close to the movie, but that's why it's a fanfic. And sorry about changing the POV. Needed to be done o get the affect. but how did you like it? Hate it? Just tell me and I'll be satisfied.


	7. A New Harley

"I, I need, I need, the bank code…" Harley mumbled to herself, tapping her finger impatiently on the counter

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, THE JOKER, HARLEY QUINN OR ANY OTHER BATMAN CHARACTERS MENTIONED. SOME SCENES FROM MOVIE, OR TRIED TO BE FROM MOVIE. NOT MINE. **

"I, I need, I need, the bank code…" Harley mumbled to herself, tapping her finger impatiently on the counter. "Anyone? Anybody know it?"

She waltzed around the bank, twirling and spinning and humming as if everything was normal and happy. She spun around a couple of customers, and they cringed away from her. She stopped what she was doing and looked at them, offended.

"Don't be afraid of ME!" she told them in a disgustingly sweet voice, and then her voice darkened. "There is much worse out there."

"You're no better than the Joker," a man mumbled.

Harley grabbed him by the back of his shirt and pulled him forward.

"What was that?" she demanded severely, taking out a small switch-blade and holding it up to the side of his face. Her face was vicious. "The Joker?"

He whimpered and closed his eyes.

"That's what I thought," she said brightly, and threw him to the ground.

All around her, thugs were waiting around with guns in their hands, getting dangerously close to the bank customers. Each of them had the same, plain white mask on and each of them were wearing different type of jester hats. Some green, some red, some red and green, some black, some red and black. All different. Yet all the same.

"As I was saying before I was rudely interrupted," Harley snarled, glaring at the man who had spoken. "I REALLY need that bank code! I kinda wanna get the vault open with having to blow it up. But, if worse comes to worse…"

She looked around politely, but no one stepped forward. Her make-uped face frowned.

"Alright, then," she began with a sigh. "I guess I'm going to have to take drastic measures."

Harley's costume was a bit different than it was before. It looked darker, and raggedy. Her hat was no longer attached to the costume, but cut it off and sewn into a new separate hat. A few strands of her blond hair dangled down, some getting caught in her dry, cracked make-up. This was a new Harley.

She walked over to one of her thugs, the biggest of them all, and reached into his bag. She pulled out two things that no one could see, and hid them behind her back. She turned to face her captive audience again.

"Now," she began, wrinkling her nose as if she had a sneeze. "In each of my hands, I have a grenade."

She pulled them out from behind her and some of the women shrieked.

"One is real," Harley continued. "One is fake. But which one? OOoooOOooooo! I need a volunteer! How about…" she scanned the viewers and stopped on a young man, about the age of thirty. "You sir!"

She grabbed him by his collar and pulled her to the center of the bank.

"I'm gonna put these behind my back. Your job is to pick which one you think is the fake bomb. You say either left or right, and whichever one you pick, I open it and throw it to the ground. If it's the fake one, nothing will happen. But if it's the real one…KA-BOOM!"

She giggled maniacally and twirled around the man who looked nauseous.

The bank was large and extremely fancy, one of those ones that cost Gotham a hefty price. The marbled floor was stained with blood, the black granite counters were surrounded by thugs, and the customers were all gathered in a corner, cowering before this new threat.

"You'll kill us all, including yourself!" the man pointed out. He swallowed.

"Only if you choose the right one," she said, giggling again. "Isn't it exciting?"

"You're insane," he said quietly. She stopped spinning and stared at him.

"Aren't we all?"

Police sirens began ringing through the air.

"Tick, tock, tick, tock," Harley rang, looking at the man expectantly. "You only got one minute to save the bank!"

"Um, I uh, pick you're la-righ-la," he stuttered fearfully, not knowing what to pick. He was shaking slightly, and perspiring like a waterfall.

"The fate of this bank lies on your shoulders," She sang. "If you pick wrong, you and only you are responsible for all of these people's deaths."

The man was terrified.

"If you don't pick in the next thirty seconds," Harley said impatiently. "I drop them both."

The man was unsure. Harley rolled her eyes and sighed, handing the two grenades to one of her thugs. She marched over to the speculators and grabbed a young, blond woman. She screamed as Harley pulled her away. Harley yanked her to her side and pulled out her switch-blade. She put it to the young porcelain lady's face.

"Choose," she threatened. "Or every second you make me wait, she gets a little nick on her pretty face. And after your fifteen seconds are up, I drop them both."

He swallowed, and she cut the side of her face. The lady screamed and covered her face. Harley cut the side of her arm next, then looked at the man with a disgusting smile on her face.

"Al-alright!" he stuttered. "I pick the-the la-left hand."

Harley squealed and clapped. "It's about time!"

She threw the lady to the ground and took back the grenades, holding out the one in her left. She carefully pulled out the little hoop. Harley threw it on the floor and stared at it excitedly, as if she couldn't wait to see if the man had chosen wisely.

The seconds ticked by and nothing happened. The customers began to sigh in relief, when a small 'BANG' rang through the air, causing all of them to jump and scream. Out of the grenade was a little flag that read, 'bang' in bright red, yellow and orange colors.

Harley jumped up and down happily.

"Wasn't that a FUN game?" she hollered exuberantly and bounced on her heels. Her smile disappeared, and she turned towards the terrified civilians. "Now that you understand how dangerous I can be, I suggest someone tells me the bank code. If not, I could just drop this other bomb-"

"Ok!" a man yelled, cutting her off. He stepped forward out of the crowd. His nametag read: Thomas James, Bank Manager.

"Brilliant! Come here, Tommy," she commanded, and he took a small step closer.

She rolled her eyes and stood next to him, putting her arm in-between his.

"So tell me!"

"It's 5483306," he answered gravely, looking at her painfully.

"Lovely!" she shouted and threw him against the wall. "Harris, go type it in."

A thug with a green and red hat on nodded and went to touch the vault, but ended up getting shocked. He fell to the floor and began shaking spastically. Harley smiled and turned towards the bank manager.

"Why didn't you tell me about that, Tommy?" she asked politely, and grabbed him by his hair and pulled it up.

"I've known people like you," she began to tell him. "Cowards. The lot of them. Hid behind the rest. You hid behind these poor defenseless people this whole time and only NOW did you step forward. Tsk, tsk! That's pretty cold. Now, I suggest that you shut down that electric barrier from the vault."

He winced and reached into his pocket, taking out some sort of remote. He pressed it.

"It's, ah, it's off…" he mumbled. She smiled and threw him on the ground once again.

"Thank you," she sang in a high-pitched voice. Harley walked over to the vault and typed the code in. The door swung open. She smiled a Cheshire-cat smile.

"Just so there are no surprises," she said, and pulled the blond woman from before with her into the vault. "She'll be the one to suffer. Oh! And by the way, I already knew the code. Thanks for playing."

The two went into the vault, the blond woman first and then Harley herself. The tension in the air was thick while the customers waited impatiently. No one came out. The clock struck 12 o'clock noon, and the thugs looked at each other. The biggest thug walked over to the small crowd of bank customers and grabbed a random man and roughly dragged him with him towards the door, pointing a gun to his head. One by one, the men left, and the customers inside didn't see him again. They heard a car start and then drive away. The ones that were left, only the bank manager, the man, and two women, looked at each other uncertainly. Why had they left their leader behind? What happened to the other woman?

The police marched inside, guns at the ready in case it was a trap. Only five SWAT members came inside, and they immediately ran to the hostages. They began escorting them out of the building.

"She's inside the vault!" Thomas cried out as he was towed towards the door. Three of them men went inside, and came out with two people. Harley tied up, and the blond woman crying into her hands hysterically. Harley was tied with a thick rope and her mouth was covered with duct tape. Her green eyes stared out wildly in horror, most likely due to the fact that they had actually caught her. They brought woman carefully to the ambulance.

The scene was surrounded by cop cars and ambulances. Hostages were being checked on, and Harley was being taken to a near-by police car.

"We caught her, Commissioner," one of the cops reported outside, talking through a walkie-talkie.

"Good," he answered from the other end. "Maybe now we can catch The Joker. Good work boys. Bring her to Arkham. I'll talk to her there."

"Yessir," the officer said, and shoved the still tied-up Harley roughly into a police car. You could hear her panicked screams through the duct tape.

The blond woman sat on the edge of the ambulance, her face covered with tears.

"It's ok Miss…?" the ambulance personnel reassured her.

"Take, Miss Take," she managed to choke out, rubbing her blue, puffy eyes.

"Miss Take, then," he said with a charming smile. "Would you like to hop inside and I'll drive you to the hospital?"

She was thoughtful for a moment, and she hiccupped a couple of times.

"No," she said darkly. "I think I have a better idea."

She pulled out a gun and pointed it at his forehead. The man swallowed and licked his lips.

"Now Miss Take-" he began, but was cut off.

"I believe YOU'VE made a mistake, bub," she said, and then giggled maniacally. "Now get in your seat and drive. I'll tell you where to go."

The man did as he was commanded, with the gun still pointed at his head. He managed to remain composed.

"That was a very good trick, Ms. Quinzel," he said to her nervously as he pulled inconspicuously out of the bank driveway. None of the other policemen noticed a thing.

"Aw shucks, you're making me blush!" she told him and giggled again. "Turn left here."

As the driver turned, he continued talking. "Had us all fooled. But a quick question. You didn't take any money. All you did was create a mess and kidnap two people. What was the point of it all?"

"Exactly!" she responded, and smiled, not saying another word.

He was silent for a few moments. The car stopped at a red light.

"So you switched places with her in the bank vault?"

"Yep," she answered in a bored tone. "Right."

"You're going to kill me, aren't you?" he asked shakily.

She looked uncertain and bit her lip. She shrugged and said, "Gee, I don't know. Probably."

"I see," he continued solemnly. "I heard you used to be a doctor. What happened?"

"The Joker happened," she answered grumpily, folding her arms, but still keeping the gun trained on him.

"You hate him now?"

"Yes."

"Why?"

"Because he created me," she sad sadly. "Pull over here, this is where we get off. It was nice talking to you!"

She brought the gun closer to his head, kissed him on the cheek, and pulled the trigger all just as the car stopped outside an old abandoned apartment building.

**Author's Note:** hey guys! I hope you liked this chapter. It was pretty crazy. Sorry if the joker wasn't in there. I promise he will be in the next chapter. Now, not a lot of people have been reviewing this story as of late. If I don't get five comments or reviews or whatever, no new chapter for a LONG time. Not a joke. I don't care if you have reviewed before, do it again! I need at least FIVE. Ok? Ok. Thanks! Oh, and thanks to you who already have reviewed this story more than once. It means a lot to me. Sniff.


	8. NANANANANANANA BATMAN!

She twirled the gun in her hand carelessly

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, THE JOKER, HARLEY QUINN OR ANY OTHER BATMAN CHARACTERS MENTIONED. SOME SCENES FROM MOVIE, OR TRIED TO BE FROM MOVIE. NOT MINE. **

She twirled the shining silver gun in her hand carelessly, not concerned at all if she accidently hit the trigger and blew her head off. She was too deep in thought. She practiced smacking her lips, and clicking her tongue, trying her best to be like the man she hated, yet loved, the most. Small drips echoed off the walls of the dingy building, and the rooms smelled of dust and blood.

Her thugs were in the room next door to hers, playing cards, torturing the hostage, watching tv, etc, etc. Her 'favorite' thug, Oscar, was guarding her door. He was the first man that she had recruited to her 'gang.' She sighed to herself at the word. How pathetic her little band of criminals was. 'I'm sure HE started out the same,' she thought, making herself feel better.

There was a knock on her beaten, old door.

"Hey boss," Oscar said, peeking into her room. "There's a white van parked out front. No one's gettin' out or nuttin'. Wants us to take cares of it?"

She didn't look at him, but made faces at the grimy stone wall in front of her. After a moment she said, "I trust you'll take care of it personally?"

He nodded his head and grinned. It had been a couple of days since they had had a good outing. Oscar closed the door slightly, and after a few seconds all was quiet. Only the sound of her gun spinning in the air.

Then there were gun shots, echoing throughout the hollow room. She didn't flinch or move; it was as if she hadn't heard them at all. When they had ended, there was no noise whatsoever. She curiously looked at the door. It was unusually silent. Normally, she would hear them all coming inside with grunts of approval. Setting the gun down, she rolled her eyes and jumped up from her chair. With her arms balled up into fists, she marched to the door and yanked it open to find that the room was completely empty. Cards were sprawled out on an old, yellow folding table, the tv was off, and chairs were strewn about the depressing room. The high windows at the far side of the room were letting in small strands of gray light.

"Oh, there's nothing to see in there," a voice said from behind and she froze. She put her hands up on the door frames and clenched them heatedly.

Two purple gloved hands found their way around the front of her waist, and a set of shivers crawled up her spine.

"I missed you," he said into her ear. "LOVE the new outfit. Makes you more, _ah_, like me."

His hands disappeared and she whipped around furiously.

"What are you doing here?" she demanded to know.

"I told you Harleen," he said, setting himself down into the chair she had been sitting in just moments ago. He picked the gun up and used it as a mirror to look at his reflection. "I missed you."

Harleen did a cartwheel and landed with her hands on either side of the Joker's head. He looked away from the gun and turned to her. He looked, surprise, surprise, bored.

"Nobody calls me that anymore," she said frigidly, her face only a few inches away from his.

"Oooo, that was cold!" he told her, and then continuing to shiver. "So everyone's calling you by the nickname that I gave you, huh?"

Harley did a handstand above his head, balancing herself over the beaten up chair that he sat in.

"It kind of stuck," she said with a sigh, landing behind the chair. "Now what do you REALLY want? As I last remembered, you left me all alone in that alleyway. I was almost mugged/raped."

"And I apologized for that, didn't I?" he said, pursing his lips.

"No, you didn't," she told him, folding her arms. Her white-painted nostrils flared.

"Oh," he said, looking down and clicking his tongue. "Well I'm sorry."

She looked down at him crossly. Then, she smiled and jumped up in the air happily, clapping her hands joyfully. Harley jumped onto his lap and squeezed him into a massive hug. The Joker pursed his lips and patted her head.

"It's ok!" she said happily, still glued to him. "I used cleverness and wits to save myself from that man and start up a team of my own!"

"Oh, I know," he said quietly, licking his lips. "You've been stealing my entire spotlight. So I came down here to do something about it."

He put his hand up to her throat and raised her out of his lap, pushing her into the cold, concrete wall as she winced in pain. He leaned his entire body into hers.

"You've been busy," he continued, pulling out his knife and stroking her greasy, tangled blond hair with it.

"Are you going to, cough, kill me?" Harley said with a small grin, gripping his wrist with both of her hands.

"I have inkling to," he told her thoughtfully. He clicked his tongue again. "Or, I think I have a better idea. You see, I could use you to help me with this, ah, mob problem I've been having. BUT," he smacked his lips together, making a small popping noise. "The thing is, I have no more room in my, _ah_, group. I'd need to eliminate one. Could you do a guy a favor?"

Her eyes narrowed and she smiled at him devilishly. All traces of the pain she was feeling had gone away as soon as he said the words. He returned with an equal, if not more, terrifying smile.

The group of men carried in the large garbage bag with the body of the Joker inside of it. They threw it on top of Gambol's pool table as Gambol himself walked around to examine it. He ripped off the bag that was placed over the body's head to reveal the Joker. He grinned at it and turned around. His grin got bigger as he saw who was behind him. Harley was bound and gagged, and was being held by her arms by one of the men who brought in the Joker. She stared angrily at Gambol, thrashing around her body and attempting to yell at him. A couple of Gambol's men slinked towards her and took her from her captor.

"So, I got him dead and her alive," Gambol started. "For him, dead, it was half a mill-"

"How about alive?" the Joker cut off, rising himself off the table and putting his trademark knife into Gambol's mouth. Harley stood up and kicked the two men in the face, stepping out of her bonds as she did so. The other men grabbed Gambol's men and held them in restraint.

"Wanna know how I got these scars?" the Joker asked Gambol. "My father was...a drinker. And a fiend. And one night he goes off crazier than usual. Mommy gets the kitchen knife to defend herself. He doesn't like that. Not. One. Bit. So, me watching, he takes the knife to her, laughing while he does it. Turns to me and he says "Why so serious?" Comes at me with the knife,"Why so serious?" He sticks the blade in my mouth and says, "Let's put a smile on that face!" And... Why so serious?"

Gambol whimpered slightly, and then the Joker cut his mouth, and Gamblor's body fell limply to the floor. Harley clapped her hands in the air, as if she was attempting to rid them of dirt. The Joker looked at the dead man's thugs and grabbed a pool cue.

"Now, our operation is small but there is a lot of potential for 'aggressive' expansion. So which one of you fine gentlemen would like to join our team? Oh, there's only one spot open right now so we're gonna have..." he broke the cue over his knee and threw it at them. "Tryouts. Make it fast."

He left the room with Harley in tow, until she was grabbed by a man.

"Oh, and Harles," The Joker said, turning to her with his finger up in the air as if he had forgotten some small detail. "The tryouts are open to you, too, babe. You didn't think you'd get in THAT easily, did you?" He chuckled lightly.

Harley's curious expression turned to one of pure hatred and loathing. She punched the man that was holding her in the nose and grabbed his gun. She shot the other three men who were, 'trying out' and threw it down the hallway where the Joker had disappeared.

"That's cheating!" he yelled from down the hall. Two men, one of them being the one that she had punched, grabbed her by her shoulders and carried her out of the building. They threw her onto the curb. Harley whipped her head around furiously and watched as they disappeared inside of the building.

"DAMN HIM!" she screeched out into the cold air.

She picked up a stone and threw it at one of the already broken windows. Harley stalked off down the street, muttering indecipherable words.

"He, he took my men, my men," she mumbled. "Killed them, kicked me out of his, his plans, out of his LIFE."

After about two miles, she finally stopped walking. The air was cold and it had started to sprinkle. She examined her surroundings to find that she was in a street not much different than the one she was in before. The only difference was that the sun had set and it was much darker out. She leaned up against a building and slumped to the ground.

"Why won't he accept me?" she cried out pitifully. "I want him to want me...I want him to need me...Just like I need him."

Police sirens began ringing through the air and their lights flashed brightly into her eyes. She smirked and stood up, using her hand to block the light. One of Joker's guys must've called them, attempting to get rid of me. She began slowly walking to them, an evil grin on her face. This was a good way for her to lash out her anger. She reached into her pants and pulled out a small switch-blade, but before she got the chance to do anything, someone from behind grabbed her. She turned her head expecting to see the face that she saw everywhere else, but was surprised. Instead, it was a black face, no a black mask with pointed ears. She stared at him in shock, and then she smiled.

"So you finally think I'm dangerous enough to go after?" Harley giggled in a girlish way. "I'm flattered. I don't believe I've had the pleasure of meeting you, Batman. I'm Harley!"

She stuck out her hand and he took it, but bent it so it went behind her back. She giggled some more.

"You're rough!"

"I believe she's the one you've been looking for?" Batman said to Commissioner Gordon as he walked over to him.

"Thanks," he said, putting Harley in handcuffs. "She took one of her hostages and switched clothes with her, so that we arrested the hostage instead of her. She's clever, but not as clever as the Joker is."

"You think so, huh?" she said, offended. They were talking as if she weren't there at all.

"Take her to Arkham." The commissioner commanded. An officer grabbed her and pulled her towards an empty police car. Harley didn't look away from the bat. She stared at him with interest and curiousity.

"Is that a good idea?" Batman's deep, rough voice asked.

"What?"

"Sending her to Arkham," Batman clarified. "Didn't she used to work there?"

"She was never in the maximum security wing," Gordon told him. "She always mainly worked on the lower classed psychopaths."

"Until the Joker," Batman said.

"Yes," Gordon said weakly.

"You don't think he'll come back to get her?"

"Actually, we're kind of planning on it."

"I wouldn't underestimate the Joker," Batman forewarned.

Gordon turned and faced the police car as it drove away into the cold night.

"I'm sure you'll be watching, won't you?" he responded and turned around. But he was too late. Batman had already disappeared.

**Author's Note:** Thanks to psychmaster, AnGeL oF mAdNeSs, Redjackpirate and twili.imp who had reviewed for the last chapter. Really 'preciate it! I know this chapter kind of stunk, but don't stop reading!! I swear next chapter will be good. Batman's going to interview her, harley gets to experience life in her own asylum, and we get to see Jonathon again!! Yay!! And once again, no new chapter until FIVE reviews. FIVE. This one, I only got four. But that's ok. I'll give you guys a freebee.


	9. Welcome Back to Arkham Asylum

Commissioner Gordon sat patiently in the interrogation room at Arkham Asylum

**Disclaimer: I DO NOT OWN BATMAN, THE JOKER, HARLEY QUINN OR ANY OTHER BATMAN CHARACTERS MENTIONED. SOME SCENES FROM MOVIE, OR TRIED TO BE FROM MOVIE. NOT MINE. **

Commissioner Gordon sat patiently in the interrogation room at Arkham Asylum. He tapped his fingers on the table, breaking the absolute silence of the room. He occasionally pulled out a manila folder that he had tucked underneath his arm and read through the files for the millionth time. Gordon wanted to know everything about her; age, past occupations, family, friends, EVERYTHING. The file said that Harleen Quinzel was 5 feet, 3 inches, weighed 115 pounds, had blue eyes, dyed blonde hair, and Caucasian. Categorized as a Psychotic criminal. Her passed occupation was a Criminal Psychologist at Arkham Asylum. She occasionally associated with the Joker. Elite level in gymnastics. Has a PhD in Psychology from Gotham University. Gordon didn't understand what went wrong with her.

He looked up just as the door swung open, and slowly the clown-face of Harley was illuminated by the small glow. He stood up as she walked in.

She was in the same outfit she was when he had caught her only hours before, except that it was concealed by a white straight jacket. Her hat was still on her head, and her make-up was cracking.

"Harleen," he greeted grimly.

She rolled her eyes.

"Again with the Harleen..." Harley mumbled despondently, pressing her lips together.

"Have a seat," he said, gesturing his hand towards a chair.

The woman shrugged, or would've shrugged if not for the straight jacket, and hopped into the seat opposite him.

"There's a surprise for you," Commissioner Gordon whispered, and the lights flipped on.

Batman was standing behind him protectively, watching Harley's every movement. They watched as she grinned and put her feet up on the table.

"Nice to see you again, Batty!" she greeted cheerfully, squinting her eyes. "Trying to look all dark and mysterious with the whole light thing? What, afraid that the psycho's here'll see you and piss their pants?"

"You know very well why we had to keep him hidden, Harleen," Gordon said.

"Harleen, Harleen, Harleen," she mumbled to herself thoughtfully, looking down and moving her jaw around, as if she was tasting the name. "Don'tcha see? Harleen's gone! Boom, bang, thump, crash, gone! G-O-N-E. It's Harley now."

Gordon slid out the folder he had and flipped it open. He skimmed through it, then looked up at her and said, "Your file says your name is Harleen Quinzel. Former employee of Arkham Asylum in Gotham City."

"Isn't ironic that you put me in here?" she giggled, ignoring what he had just said. "You'd think you would've locked me up in jail or something. What made you put me in my second home?"

"Because people as psychotic as you belong in asylums," Batman answered, looking down at her.

"Psh, I'm not a psycho," she told him, rolling her eyes and adjusting herself in the jacket.

"You've murdered a large amount of people, without any reason," Gordon informed her. Harley smiled, remembering it like it was yesterday. She put her feet onto the ground.

"I'm not a psycho," she repeated quietly, looking at him emotionlessly. "I'm just…different. You see, the way I've been, recently, taught to view the world is...motivating. All the dark, the bad, the ugly. The world you lived in, let's say a year ago, was psychotic. Muggings happening on every street corner, murders every night, bank robberies, the list goes on and on and on. And did anyone ever do anything about it? You don't count. But, as you know, things have CHANGED. Mobs don't come out every night like they used to. Criminals cower at your signal. You are like an epidemic, and to the, uh, good people of this town, you are addicting. It's like crack for the good! And because of people like you, people like me and the Joker come out to...play. To make a little pandemonium."

She smiled at them triumphantly and jumped up and down in her seat, as if she had succeeded in winning something.

Gordon looked at Batman, who was emotionless.

"You are a walking contradiction," Batman said, sitting down in the chair. "When we first caught you, you were angry with us when we said you weren't quite as smart as the Joker. But your whole being is to be just like him. The way you act, the way you steal, the way you kill. It's almost as if, to you, he is..."

"A God?" she stopped him, grinning slightly and tilting her head. "A genius? An idol? That's because he IS. To me. He. Is. I try so hard to be exactly like him, so hard to make him accept me...but it's never enough. NEVER. ENOUGH."

Her voice was shaking now, in anger. If they had been able to see her arms or any other part of her body, it would have been shaking as well. Her eye twitched and her breathing had become abnormally fast. Then, as quick as it had left her, her smile came back and she put her feet back up on the table.

"If he doesn't accept you," Gordon started. "Why do you keep on trying?"

"Because he is my drug," she said, her smile getting wider and wider. "Everything about him is...amazing."

"But he's rejected you many times," Batman said, standing up and pounding his fist on the table.

"All part of the game, Batty," she informed him, leaning forward onto the table. "And what about you? The people of this rat hole have rejected you again and again, especially the police here. And yet you kept on going, like a bat version of the energizer bunny. Now look! They have you in here interrogating people! They've given you your own personal beeper! That is the reward of perseverance! That is what I want."

He walked across the table and grabbed her by my shoulders, lifting Harley about a foot off the ground.

"You're only a toy to him!" he yelled at her. "He's using you to make Gotham a worse place so that HE could take control of it. In the end, he's just going to use you and then kill you."

"Then so be it," she said with a grin. "Isn't that what you are to him?"

He stared at her, his lips quaking, and then threw her down to the ground.

"I'm done with her," he mumbled, and walked towards the door.

"What makes you angrier, Batty?" she called out to him. "How different we are, and you can't understand me? Or is it that you and I are exactly the same? The worst in us being brought out by the corrupt people of this city?"

He stopped for a second, and then continued until he was out the door.

She was down on the floor, laughing and giggling as if he had just told her an incredibly hilarious joke. Harley rolled over onto her back and looked at Gordon expectantly.

"Ready to take me back?"

Harley was lying down on her back on her yellow bed in her yellow-bricked room. She stared at the ceiling and mumbled undecipherable words. They had finally taken the straight jacket off of her, seeing that she was not a threat to herself or others around her, and placed her in a repulsive orange jumpsuit. There was a small piece of white cloth that was stitched to her clothes with the number 001389 stamped onto it. Her make-up was still intact, but was melting and rubbing off, and her hat was taken away. She wasn't able to shower yet, so her hair was still a blonde, greasy mess.

She raised herself up using only her abdominal muscles and walked towards the door. She gazed out the little window and snorted at all of the passing doctors. Harley turned around and slunk down onto the floor.

'I hope I wasn't as worthless as them,' she thought to herself and sighed. 'I WAS that pathetic. Even the Joker thought I was a joke.'

Her thoughts flared when she remembered him.

'What, am I still not good enough for him? He thinks there is someone better than me? Psh, I hope he has a fun time searching for her,' she bit her lip as she thought that. 'He probably could've easily found someone as weak as me and turned her into someone even crazier and blood thirsty for the Joker as me.'

Her door opened, and she let gravity pull her down to the ground. A police guard walked in. He looked at her and smiled.

"Ms. Quinzel?" he called out, still smiling.

She rolled onto her back and flipped forward, looking at the man viciously.

"It's Harley, now," she snapped.

"Time for your free time Ms. Q-" she gave him a, "if eyes could kill, you would be dead," look. He corrected himself. "Harley. Come with me."

She got up off of the floor and exited out her door, with him following right behind. He smacked her butt and she jumped. Harley turned around and gave him a menacing glare, which he answered with licking his lips and holding up a nightstick. She flared her nostrils and continued walking ahead.

When they reached the recreation room, there were only a couple of other people inside. Two women and one man. The news was blaring from a TV in the center of the room. The one of the women were sitting on a couch across from it and watching it intently. The other woman was sitting on the floor in the corner, staring at her hand and blowing into it as if it were on fire. The man was sitting at a table, and with closer examination, she found that she recognized him.

"Jonathon?" she called out, waving her hands up in the air and jumping up and down.

He was sitting at a table with a two-thousand piece puzzle, but not trying to finish it. He didn't acknowledge her presence, which she responded with charging over to him and turning his chair around to face him. Crane looked up at her lazily, with his eyes sagging. She assumed that they had drugged him.

"Harleen," he said tiredly, confirming her previous though. "I haven't, haven't seen you in awhile."

"It's so good to see you," she said happily, taking the seat beside him and looking at him admiringly.

"You've been busy," he said gesturing his head over towards the TV. The news was on and it was talking about the Joker and I. "I believe you belong in here more than I do."

He tapped his teeth together. Harley brushed her hand around his face.

"Jonathan Crane..." she said quietly in adoration.

He grabbed her hand suddenly and roughly as she pulled it away.

"Dr. Crane isn't here right now," he said, like he was hypnotized. "But if you would like to leave a message-"

He cut himself off and rolled onto the floor. His body began jerking and spazzing. She looked at him curiously, but it didn't seem as if she cared.

"Scarecrow, Scarecrow," he mumbled continuously. "Scarecrow..."

The guard that escorted her over rushed over to see what had happened, pushing Harley away. He pulled out a walkie-talkie and began reciting commands into it. She noticed his nightstick hanging out of his belt and quickly grabbed it, knocking it behind his neck. The cop collapsed onto the floor and Harley pushed Jonathon onto his back. She straddled his body and leaned down towards his face.

"Jonathon's not here?" she asked in-fake sadness as he continued to flinch uncontrollably. "Good. Cuz I don't want Crane."

She leaned in even closer and grinned at him.

"I want the Scarecrow."

**Author's Note:** Thanks to Gamine Madcap, psychmaster, twili.imp, AnGeL oF mAdNeSs, and ChrsitineDae17 who had reviewed for the last chapter. That was SIX reviews!! Yay!! Thanks you guys! And I really appreciate suggestions. It helps me to become a better writer. Once again, five reviews til next chapter. Review this one, because I worked especially hard on it. Thanks!


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